Poor Design
by writerfan2013
Summary: Sequel to A Little Light. "Ten months since they met, and although she daily saw his words on the screen, heard his dry voice, his face was reduced now to an impression of crazy black hair, scruffy beard, and sharp blue eyes." Memory and distance and things not going as you hope. Leo x Mattie This came out a bit angsty. But there is more. Soon.


The borrowed car was green, dented, and made a noise like gnats in a jar when you took it above fifty-seven. It took Mattie nearly seven hours to drive the three hundred miles from Southampton to Kendal, and it rained for the last two of those. She climbed from the car at the roadside pub, her ankles and neck stiff from an entire day at the wheel. It was going to be dark in a couple of hours. April was supposedly the start of spring but in the Lakes, with clouded hills rising all about, the sun did not get much of a look in.

Mattie lifted her rucksack from the driver's seat. It was heavy. As well as her laptop, it held her overnight things, plus the kit Leo had asked her to bring, and money from her parents. She crunched across the grey gravel, ducking her hair against the drizzle, trying not to look as if she carried a ton of gear which would make a headcracker's mouth water.

Leo. She could hardly remember his face. They messaged every day, and sometimes spoke on one of her anonymous phones, but she had not seen him since he said goodbye at her parents' house last year. Ten months since they met, and although she saw his words on the screen, heard his dry voice, his face was reduced now to an impression of crazy black hair, scruffy beard, and sharp blue eyes. She remembered his hands, though - graceful hands, for a man so spiky and ill-kempt - and how he had touched his lips to her cheek, acknowledgment of their connection.

The New Boot Inn was white-painted, with optimistic window boxes, and a more practical outdoor eating area shrouded in plastic against the inevitable Lake District rain. Mattie pushed open the door of the Saloon Bar and saw Leo at one of the glossy mahogany tables, hunched in front of a laptop. Mia was at the bar, dressed in walkers' anorak and boots, paying for drinks.

Leo looked up as the door banged shut and saw Mattie. He nodded at her, his face creasing into a smile.

She grinned back. Months of prep, leading to this. She hauled herself and her stuff over to their table. They had big rucksacks too.

Mia placed a Coke and a lemonade on the table. She smiled at Mattie. "It's good to see you again." Mattie hugged her, and Mia was warm and solid just like a real person. There was no trace of green in her eyes.

Past Mia's shoulder, Mattie smiled at Leo. He wore walking clothes too, baggy khaki trousers and a navy technical fleece. His hair was wild from the wind and rain, or perhaps, just from the way he always left it. He ran his gaze all over Mattie, taking in her blue jeans, big boots, lumberjack coat. She could not tell what he thought. Whatever effort she'd made at six am in her student room, extra black nails, extreme catflick eyes, extra nerve to go and meet a fugitive - it wore off hours ago.

"Have you brought it?" he asked her, getting to his feet.

"Yes. I'll go and check into my room."

He nodded. "Text me which one. We'll come up when we've finished our drinks."

* * *

There were no enough power sockets. A proper hotel would have had a dozen, but the New Boot had been 'updated' in about 1980 with no premonition that guests might want to charge up their mobiles.

Mattie unplugged the telly and spread the gear out on the bed. She unwound extension cables and hoped the ancient inn's electrical circuit would take the strain.

She waited for the others to sneak upstairs and join her. Even after all this time, they still had to be so careful.

Leo opened the door and hustled in, with Mia close behind. He looked around at the candlewick bedspread and pink washbasin.

"There's no WiFi," said Mattie. "No internet at all actually."

"That's fine," said Leo. He grabbed the wooden chair from the dressing table and sat down at the bed as if it were a desk. Mattie locked the bedroom door and came to sit, cross-legged, on the bed. Leo began unloading his rucksack, Mia helping, until there was a mountain of equipment on the bed.

"Where's Max?" Mattie asked.

Leo jerked his head towards the window. "Keeping watch. He'll text us if he gets suspicious."

Mia came to stand beside the bed. "I'll be your test subject today, Mattie."

Mattie glanced at Leo. "I'm not sure..."

"I've backed up Mia's true root code," Leo said. "It's fine. We can restore her if anything goes wrong." He gave Mia a sweet smile, and she patted his shoulder.

"It's all right, Mattie," said Mia. "I'm not afraid. Leo knows what he's doing."

"Yeah, but..." Mattie grimaced and began unrolling a slim wire which she ran from her laptop to Leo's. She and he had been exchanging ideas for months, but they had never dared share the whole of their work online. Just in case. "If this works-"

"We'll be able to switch Fred on again. Rip out what they did to him. Bring him back." Leo was fierce.

"Something else too," she said quietly.

"What?"

"We'll be able to protect the others from ever being modded like that." She hesitated. "Including you."

His mouth opened. He closed it again.

"Mattie is right, Leo," said Mia. "You are just as at risk as the rest of us."

Leo eyed Mattie. It was impossible to tell if he was angry or just embarrassed. "I'm not a priority."

"Yes you are," said Mattie. "If something happened to you -" She stopped. That fear was too real to voice.

"It's pointless sitting here wondering," he said gruffly. "Let's get on with it."

* * *

Mia opened her eyes. Leo held her hand. "Are you there? Mia?"

Mia smiled. "Yes, Leo. It's me."

He slumped. "Thank god."

Mattie began packing away her stuff. "This is big," she said, because Leo was undemonstrative. "This means you can all be free."

"One thing at a time," he said.

"We should apply this to you, Leo," said Mia.

"No," he said. "We need to get to Fred, charge him, see if we can wake him up -"

He was on his feet, stuffing drives and wires into his rucksack.

"You're not just going to rush off now," Mattie said. "At least have a cup of tea first."

"You should eat," said Mia to Leo. "Also you, Mattie. The pub restaurant will still be open."

Leo's gaze shifted from one to the other. "Cup of tea," he conceded. "Then we move. I don't like hanging around in one place too long."

"Max will need charging," Mattie said. "Bring him up here, he can juice up while we have a cuppa." As if Leo had already agreed, she filled the kettle in the basin and switched it on.

"Fine," said Leo. "Max can charge up for a bit."

Mia went to fetch him.

Alone in the bedroom, Mattie and Leo listened to the churn of the water.

"I can't believe it worked," she said. "I thought I might have got that algorithm wrong."

"No," he said. "It was... Right."

He reached for her hand. She slipped her fingers into his palm, warm and shy. It was awkward and yet they persisted. They had exchanged hours and hours of conversion online in the last six months, but now, in the same physical space, it seemed they had exchanged little but words.

Mattie gave an uncomfortable laugh. She squeezed his hand. "I don't think there's am emoji for this."

He didn't answer, but leaned in and kissed her cheek. It was strange to have him so close. Their friendship had been entirely virtual all this time. Now here he was, watching for her reaction, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. Mattie slid her arms around his waist and after a moment he did likewise. They hugged each other close, his nose in her hair, her face in his bony shoulder. "Tea," she mumbled.

"White two sugars," he said, laying his chin on the top of her head.

She laughed, and he squeezed her tighter, then let her go. "Now we're free," Leo said. "I can keep them safe, go anywhere, and they can't be hacked." He pressed his palms over his eyes. "It's over."

Mattie went still. Of course. She felt cold, and exhaustion, trickle through her. And something else, a sickening disappointment that all this while he had felt himself not free, but tied to her. "Yeah," said Mattie. She busied herself with the mugs, teabags in their individual packets, fiddly little plastic cups of milk.

It was over. She had helped him never need her again. She was the architect of her own downfall. Great.

She bit her lip. If she was wrong about him, them - then it was better to know. But she wasn't wrong. She knew people. She could read between the many, many lines of conversation they'd exchanged. She knew.

"Leo," she said. He removed his hands from his face and looked quizzically at her.

Well, he was never going to make the first move.

She hung her arms around his neck and gazed up at him. His arms were at his sides.

She waited for him to kiss her but gradually realised that he wouldn't so she did it, held his face and kissed him gently on the lips as if he was the younger and sweeter of the two, which he possibly was.

That was how Mia and Max found them, Leo still recoiling from her kiss, Mattie hurt and confused.

Mia stared. Max's mouth dropped open.

Leo darted away from Mattie with a furious expression.

"I'm sorry," Mia said. "We didn't mean to interrupt."

"You didn't," said Mattie with more bitterness than she would have thought possible after less than a minute of rejection.

Leo shouldered past Mia and out of the room. Max went after him.

"Oh god," said Mattie. She flopped onto the bed. "That was so stupid."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Mia asked.

Mattie winced. "Uh .." How humiliating. Advice from your bloke's mother. Mortifying. But then again, what the hell. "I thought he liked me," she said.

"He does."

"I mean... in that way. As a woman." Mattie scraped at her nail varnish. It was already wrecked from typing.

"Sexually. He does," said Mia.

Way to be subtle. "I don't think so," Mattie said, sickness in her stomach.

Mia waited. But Mattie would not speak. Mia said then, "He talks about you often. I know you've been talking online."

"Every day, "said Mattie.

"Yes," said Mia. "He looks forward to your conversations."

"So do I," Mattie said. Oh god. Pathetic. Do not cry. Do not cry in front of Mia. She swallowed.

Mia came and placed her hand on Mattie's bicep. "Don't worry," she said. "Leo is cautious. He has had to be. Nothing he does is on impulse."

Mattie stared. That was a good point. Nearly a year of online chat and he'd kissed her cheek, held her hand. A year. "He's not like the boys I know," she said, realising too late that she meant to say 'men.'

"No," said Mia. "He's not." Her unblinking eyes held a soft smile, for Leo, who was not like anybody.

Mattie sighed. "Mia," she said. "Will you do me a favour?"

"What is it?"

"Help me record something. Something for Leo. Help me give it to him. Will you? Please?"

Mia smiled. "It would make Leo happy," she said. "Yes."

* * *

Leo threw himself onto his bunk in the narrow terraced house he shared with his brother and sister, and tipped his chin towards the ceiling. "Well, that was a disaster."

"We succeeded," said Max. He stood in the doorway. Although there were two beds in here, that was for show. This was Leo's room, and at night, Max usually sat in a chair on the landing outside, charging. "We have the protection you wanted."

"Huh. That's not what I meant." Leo scrubbed his face with his hands. The underside of the bunk was full of memories for him: an exact digital memory of every time he'd ever looked at it, of course, plus a hard knot of emotion memories from the nights he lay awake thinking, and worrying.

"I thought it was a nice day," said Max.

"You would," said Leo.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. The day was fine."

"What's wrong," Max asked again. He came in and sat in Leo's desk chair. "I can tell you're upset about something. Angry."

"With myself. I did something, or more like, I didn't do something, and now I'm kicking myself. That's all. It's all right, Max. Go to bed. I'm fine." Leo reached out and clapped Max's knee.

Max looked uncertain but went. Leo saw him through the crack in the bedroom door, going to sit by the charging point in the wall.

Leo was about to get up and close the door fully, but Mia appeared. "I want to say goodnight," she said in her gentle voice.

Leo gave her a smile that came out more as a grimace. "Night."

She sat on the edge of his bed and smoothed her hand over his forehead. "I've got something for you." She took a cable from her pocket.

Leo frowned.

"It's a gift," Mia said. "From Mattie."

Leo went still.

"She said to tell you you don't have to accept it but it's there if you do. Do you want it?"

"What is it," he asked, eyeing the cable.

"Data," said Mia.

"Where from," Leo asked. He made no move to expose his data port.

Mia smiled. "From Mattie."

* * *

The viewpoint was weird. "Were you looking over her shoulder?" Leo asked. His eyes were closed as he let the images roll in front of his optic nerves. The cable connected him to Mia, like a lifeline, like the cord which had never connected him to her, even though she had done as much to earn that as any mother.

"Yes. It was funny."

He already knew that. He could hear them giggling as Mattie tried to act normal with Mia's head on her right shoulder.

Leo saw the bedroom in the pub, the bizarre pink bathroom, the rainy evening outside the window. And two mugs of tea, steaming.

"Listen," said Mia.

Mattie cleared her throat. "OK. It's morning."

Clearly it was not morning. "I'm in the kitchen in my student hall," said Mattie. "I'm making a cup of tea but I'm thinking about you."

Leo felt a chill that shimmered from his face to his chest.

"Now it's lunchtime," said Mattie. The view was of her laptop screen. "I'm coding. This bit might be boring."

"No, it won't," he said out loud.

Mia smiled.

It was obvious that Mattie had become engrossed in her work and forgotten that Mia was there. After a bit she paused and said, "Oh. Thinking about you. You taught me this bit." She pointed at her laptop screen.

Leo nodded, smiling through bitten lips.

There was a break, then the view of Cumbrian hills appeared: Mattie was looking from the window of her room at the inn. It was growing dark outside. Max was crossing the car park, heading for the low wall that separated it from the wild. Then Leo saw himself, crunched up in his hoodie and jeans, perched on the wall, looking miserable as sin. The view stayed the same, just Mattie watching him as Max approached, sat beside him, talked to him, persuaded him to come back inside, so they could say goodbye to Mattie and leave. Mattie's voice came softly: "Thinking of you."

He saw himself get up and start back to the hotel, then the image stopped. He opened his eyes.

"That's it," said Mia. "There wasn't time to make more."

"Right."

"Although, I can show you something. It was right after we stopped recording." Mia took Leo's hand, preventing him removing the data cable. "Mattie was still looking at you, and I looked at her."

Leo saw Mattie's sharp, clever face, angled towards the window. Her dramatic eyes had ceased that deliberate challenge she often adopted, and she was smiling, a sad, affectionate smile, aimed at him.

His heart stuttered. "Right. OK."

Mia disconnected from him, wordlessly passing him the gauze he kept over his data port at night. He patched it onto his left side. "Goodnight, Leo," Mia said.

He nodded, and waited for the door to close behind her. Then he sank slowly back against his pillow, replaying Mattie's brave smile, now forever fixed in his mind.

"Fuck it."

He rolled onto his stomach and reached for his phone. This week's phone. Best to stay careful. Max kept a continuous supply of anonymous SIMs for Leo. And for Mattie.

Leo propped himself on his elbows. He dialled Mattie's current number from memory.

"Hello."

"It's me."

"Oh. Hey."

"Hey."

"I got your present."

Silence.

"It was sweet," he said. "Thanks."

"No problem." Ice cold courtesy down the phone. He cursed inwardly.

"Listen," he said. "I would have, when you kissed me..." He was trying to keep his voice below the level of the others' super-sharp hearing. "I would have but - we don't really know each other. Let's not get carried away."

"Ok . fine."

"You're pissed off."

"No. It's fine." She sounded like him, reassuring Max. Lying. "I just misunderstood. It's ok."

"No," he said. "You didn't. You understood just fine. It's my fault. I shouldn't have been such an arse."

"Do you mean you shouldn't have kissed me to start with?" That one kiss, his impulse, months ago now. He remembered it with equal parts pleasure and regret.

"No. I mean I should have kissed you back when you wanted me to. But - that's all it would have been. So that's why not."

"We can be just friends," she said in a small voice.

He screwed up his eyes. "That might be the best thing," he said. "You've got your own life."

"Ok"

It was for the best. His life, the hiding, the constant fear of discovery, the terror that he would lost Mia or Max for good, it wasn't for her. She only thought she liked him. She wouldn't if she saw how they really lived, day to day.

This was the best way.

So why did he feel so terrible?

"Look, I've got to go," she said. "I've got to drive back in the morning."

"Right, fine."

"We'll talk tomorrow." She was all breezy and and off-hand. She sounded like her mother.

"Yeah. Of course. Find me online."

"All right. Night then." Her farewell in his ear, ending on an upwards note of disappointed hope.

"Night."

Click.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He'd really hurt her and she was being all brave and that broke his heart but it truly was the best plan. "Fuck."

"Leo. Is everything all right?"

Max again, in the doorway.

"Yes. I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to bed."

"Is Mattie still your friend?"

"Yes. I think so."

"We'll always be friends, Leo." Max smiled his honest smile.

"I know." Leo was too tired for this, but Max's simple loyalty demanded an explanation. "She wanted to be my girlfriend."

"That sounds nice."

"No, it doesn't. I haven't got a life. I don't exist."

"You do exist."

Leo sighed.

"I want you to be happy," said Max. "Mattie makes you happy. When you chat to her online you're happy for hours afterwards. She would be a good girlfriend."

Leo gave a short laugh. "Max. Go to bed. Tomorrow we'll go and get Fred. And Mattie, she's, she's my friend." My only human one.

"That's still good," said Max.

"Yeah."

He lay in the dark with his eyes closed and waited for sleep. Thinking about you. He screwed up his eyes, not that it made a difference to the way his memories streamed across his vision, each moment sharp and clear. He had to make a conscious decision to remember something else or he'd have felt her kiss on his mouth all night long.

He didn't exist. Officially, or in her life. He was just words on a screen, a voice transmitted down the phone. For her he was just a few blurry memories, overlaid with how she wished he would be. Human memory is a tricksy thing, easily rewritten, even minutes after the event. Over months and years it is so unreliable as to be worthless except as a source of nostalgia and fantasy.

Of course, he was different, but that was his problem. To him, memories were just as solid and real as life itself. Life was only memory, except for the thin edge of the present. Gazzaniga wrote that. And for Leo it was doubly true: every book he had ever read, every word he ever spoke, all was still with him. And every new moment made more.

So perhaps it was only that which made him restless tonight, only that the Mattie in his mind was just as warm and real as if she stood beside him now, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him like the naive girl she still was.

He sighed. It was just that a human body was attached to a machine mind. Just that the chemical mix of emotion and memory had never been considered for his design, and he had no clue how to handle that.

He screwed up his eyes against the pixel perfect vision of Mattie, her hand tight in his, her smile tilted up for him to kiss, making him blush. It was just poor design. It was just that he had never encountered the possibility that a person might love him back.


End file.
